


The Workings of Chance

by Argyle



Category: Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-15
Updated: 2005-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/pseuds/Argyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To understand all is to forgive all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Workings of Chance

Tucked amidst the University’s ancient buildings, the Botanical Gardens seemed a bastion of youth and beauty. It was true that I had never before crossed its threshold, but as Sebastian twined his arm around my own and we started forward over the ruddy path, I felt that it was a place which spoke to the very centre of my being. The heavy resonance of the gate’s iron latch fell against the gentle song of unseen nightingales, and my mind was driven to fashion a melody in its wake. I was suddenly overcome with visions of medieval palaces and castle courtyards, of heroes who become one with their conquests, and it was only by some distant turn of chance that I heard the gentle lilt of Sebastian’s words.

“It’s odd.”

I turned to him, bemused. “What is?”

“My being here with you. It’s a perfectly charming place in all the usual ways -- and of course one meets people here with a certain _joie de vivre_ , if you know what I mean -- though I sometimes come alone to stand beside the trellises when the grounds are empty and still. I rather like being in a place where _no one knows me but the rain and the air_.” Sebastian met my gaze, solemnly holding it until I coerced myself to look away. “Don’t you?”

I frowned, considering my words, and finding none, I said simply, “Yes, I suppose so.”

We paused before a great stone arch, lingering between shadow and light, and a length of ivy brushed against my cheek. The leaves were smooth beneath my hand, pliant as I twisted a thin, green vine around my fingertips. I took a deep breath. The air was filled with the scent of damp soil and new life, heralding nothing if not promise.

“How often do you come here?” I asked at length.

“Oh.” Sebastian almost smiled as he said this. He tightened his grip upon my arm, a comforting weight that filled my thoughts with excitement yet uncharted; his eyes were bright and earnest. “At least once a week, I should say.”

“I think it’s lovely.”

“Good,” he laughed lightly, “because I will be bringing you back.”

I almost didn’t answer, so caught up in the moment was I, though after a moment had passed, I said in a soft, breathless voice, “When?”

“Whenever I feel that the moment is right.”

“I see.” Our friendship seemed to have been previously ordained by some higher power whose existence I could neither accept nor deny, and I upheld his proposal without a moment’s hesitation, moving forward with the same easy steps that I presently took within the gilded protection of the garden walls. I reached into my pocket for my cigarettes, but paused as Sebastian raised a languid hand.

“Wait,” he said. “Let me give you one of mine.” Drawing his fair brows together, he pulled his case from his jacket. Its carved, silver face glinted in the fractured light that passed through the overhanging lattices, and he opened it with a practiced turn of his wrist. I smiled as he lit two, inwardly thrilled to see the warm curl of his lips.

“Thank you,” I said. We smoked in silence for some moments, neither of us fearful of the unspoken words which hung between us. There was a familiarity to our pace, one that seemed to be borne upon the back of the wind, steady and sure, one that cannot be seen as fleeting until it has already passed with the irrevocable knowledge of age. The happy hours which stood before us seemed to grow with an infinite potentiality, quiet and eager in the golden air, never to be reckoned and reasoned or cruelly numbered by one hundred or two. “Sebastian?”

“Yes, Charles?”

“I’m glad to have met you.”

His eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked in a fine, clear voice.

It was an admission. I knew this. I smiled at the press of his hand against my own and dropped my cigarette onto the ground, extinguishing its dim ember with my toe. “Yes.”

The season would soon come to reach its pinnacle, and the scent of the gillyflowers would seep into my rooms as Sebastian tapped on my door with the first strains of evening’s muted resolve. I would wait for his call.


End file.
